


Unspooling

by Merixcil



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consent Issues, Dom/sub Undertones, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Pink finds a sore spot he can poke at and keeps going till White snaps
Relationships: Mr. Pink/Mr. White
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Unspooling

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the 'consent issues' tag:  
> Everyone has fun (more or less) here, but the sex takes place under circumstances where consent cannot be assumed and it is most certainly never explicitly given

“For all I know, you’re the rat!”

“For all I know, you’re the fucking rat!”

Pink spares a glance to the meatsack on the ramp outside. He’s stopped groaning – could be passed out or could be dead. Could just have shut the fuck up. “Now you’re using your fucking head.”

If there’s one thing Pink has learned about White in the short time they’ve known each other, it’s that he can decide to lose his temper or keep his cool on a dime. Pink opens his mouth to follow that thought up and gets the wind knocked out of him as white shoves him back against the sink.

“Don’t you tell me what I’m doing, you hear?” White spits, right up close so Pink can smell stale coffee on his breath. “You don’t tell me what I’m doing, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just saying, this is a delicate situation.”

“Delicate situation? We don’t- The diamonds- That boy!” White nods towards the bloody mess of Mr Orange in the other room and Pink decides he’s gonna wait to feel guilty about all of that till later.

The lip of the sink digs uncomfortably into Pink’s buttocks, wetting the ass end of his suit. White’s eyes stray from his face for a second, checking up on the kid. Fuck Orange. He’s gonna blow this whole operation without even trying.

“Will you drop it?” Pink hoists himself free of White’s grip on his shirt front. “Fuck the kid, he’s gonna die anyway. I’m sorry he never sucked your dick, really, but you’ve gotta pull yourself together.”

“You really don’t know when to shut your damn mouth.”

“I know exactly when to shut my fucking mouth. I shut it before I tell the guy I’m working a job with my real name. I mean, Jesus Christ, White!”

“That’s my name. I do what I want with it.”

“Well if what you wanna do with it is get your rent boy in there killed, then congratulations!”

White shakes his head. “Enough of that shit. With the faggot shit. Can’t I just like the kid?”

Pink lets out a wry laugh. “Oh, you’re real new to this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“First day I walked in on this job, I saw those pretty two tone eyes and that smirk and I promised myself I wasn’t gonna go near Mr fucking Orange.” Pink shakes his head. “I’ve been in this game way too long to let my dick trip me up.”

For a moment, it looks like White might let his confusion soften him. But then his jaw sets and his shoulders square and Pink is suddenly hyper aware that White is standing between him and the door.

“I don’t let nothing trip me up.” White’s voice is barely above a whisper.

The adrenaline of the day; the heist, the police, Orange’s imminent demise, White’s rage; it all slams into Pink like a freight train. He could run a mile or talk a mile a minute. The hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention and the horrible possibility that he could keep goading White, just to see what happens, hovers within arm’s reach.

“Right, of course, That’s how the cops caught up to us. Cuz you don’t let anything trip you up.”

“You just don’t know when to stop talking.”

“Please, I can shut up when I’m dead.”

“I’m starting to think that day’s gonna come a whole lot sooner than you want it to.”

“Yeah? Go on then.”

White grabs a fist of Pink’s hair, dragging him towards the back wall like he intends to brain him against the tiles. Pink gets a leg between his and a hand on his arm and uses what little purchase he has to move his body up against White’s, messily trying to grind against him. His head still hits the wall, but once the colours have stopped popping in front of his eyes, he’s still breathing.

White leans in dangerously close, eyes pinched in confusion. “Did you just try to-?”

“Hey, it’s not like the kid’s going to.” Pink laughs as White’s knee dodges his crotch to sock him in the stomach.

“I don’t know what you think-“

Pink gets a hand on the outline of White’s dick through the front of his suit (which is infinitely nicer than anything the rest of them are wearing) and squeezes. The beginnings of an erection jump up to meet him and he almost wishes there was blood between his teeth when he grins up at White. “I think you need someone to sort your shit out before you lose your head.”

White is definitely debating hitting him again, but he hasn’t moved out of Pink’s grip.

“C’mon!” Pink coaxes. “I’ll let you call me Orange if it’ll make you feel better.”

There’s definitely blood in Pink’s mouth once White is done slapping the shit out of him. But Pink’s hand is still on his dick, moving ever so slowly, daring White to say that he’s not having any fun.

But talented as Mr White may be, for a career criminal he fucking sucks at lying. “Get on your knees.”

The tiles are a fair way short of comfortable on his knees. Pink fumbles at White’s fly and is met by six and a half inches of mostly erect cock. Before he can take matters into his own hands, White fists his hair hard enough to make him yelp.

“Open your mouth.”

“Well you’re anything by gracious, Mr Tip Master.”

“I said open your fucking mouth and if you think I mean I want you to talk you’re gonna lose that tongue real quick.”

That’s a good threat. Pink decides he doesn’t want to know if he’s aroused or not as White’s dick makes a beeline for his open mouth. He can always jerk off on a bed of diamonds at the end of the day if he needs to.

White’s cock slides along his tongue, tasting of sweat and skin. Fuck all that bullshit about the allure of the male musk, Pink’s usually down for a spot of sword swallowing but he’s not about to pretend it’s any more glamourous than taking a fucking piss stick into your mouth.

White thrusts in hard, making it painfully clear that he doesn’t care if he hits Pink’s gag reflex hard enough to make him puke. He probably cares enough to mess Pink up real bad if he does have to hurl but he’s not about to make it easy on him. Pink struggles to open his throat in time for the second thrust and barely makes it in time. White moves hard and fast, making the most of what they’ve got before they run out the clock. The cops could get here any moment, after all.

Pink tries to get a hold on White’s thighs to steady himself but his hands and beaten back. “Keep your hands to yourself, fag.”

Look who’s talking, Pink would say if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied. White’s grip in his hair grows steadily tighter, and when Pink looks down at his lap he sees where his spit has pooled between his knees, stained pink with blood. It’s probably highly unsanitary to get blood on your dick, but that sounds like Mr White’s problem.

White finishes with a growl and holds himself down Pink’s throat just long enough that his he has to be battered away to not choke the guy out. “Jesus Christ.” Pink gasps. “I need some oxygen down here.”

The sneer White graces him with is so perfectly dismissive that Pink doesn’t have to wonder if he practices in the mirror. He buttons himself up and moves to the sink to start washing his hands.

Pink collapses onto his haunches in a daze. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest but with White on the other side of the room he has nowhere to turn that energy. “White…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

In the other room, the sound of the door opening heralds the arrival of Mr Blonde. “Anybody home?”

“Where the fuck have you been?” White calls back, striding out to meet him as he shakes his hands dry. Pink stares at his retreating back, trying to will away his boner.

“Where’s Pink?” Blonde asks.

Alright, time to get to work. Pink scrambles to the sink to clean the blood from his chin before he had to face the music.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the [Reservoir Dogs Kink Meme](https://resdog-kink.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://jeffersonhairpie.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/chadfuture_)
> 
> Comments are love!


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